


The Zap of Reality

by Dynamia Eromai (Demixian)



Series: Scorpius is an Ignorant Bitch [2]
Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: ''''''Practicing'''''''', Angst and Feels, Experimenting with a friend, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, Sexual Themes, Teen Angst, tw homophobia, tw swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demixian/pseuds/Dynamia%20Eromai
Summary: Albus Potter, being a good person, helped his friend prepare for a date. Unfortunately for him, this opened up quite the can of worms.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1 and 8 onwards are in the present tense and 2-7 are in the past tense. This is deliberate as the story is not in chronological order, just in case there was any confusion.

Through the frost and condensation from his breath on the window, the world almost seems to have a greenish-grey tint to it, discolouring the true white of the tumbling flecks of snow falling past the window. Albus Potter crosses his legs in the figure four and stirs his peppermint tea pensively. He gazes out at the green-grey world with little awe, being so used to the castle and its grounds after five years.

 

Then the door swings open. He jumps in the armchair, nearly spilling his tea all over its burgundy fabric.

 

    “Steady on,” he mutters to a flushed Scorpius, who subsequently swings the door behind himself with equally little thought, slamming it shut. Albus jumps again.

 

    “Sweet, merciful Dumbledore,” cries Scorpius, collapsing on the conveniently placed chaise lounge. “Have I got a corker for you, Al.”

 

    “You could have the forethought not to go round slamming doors.”

    “Oh, shut up, you queen. Listen,” he sits up and yanks off his scarf. “I talked to Rose. About the thing.”

 

Albus stops blowing on his tea for a moment, pausing with his lips still pursed. “… Oh?”

 

Clearly relishing in the drama of it all, Scorpius grins madly. “Well… Guess what she said!”

    “I don’t know,” Albus says with a pleasant smile, allowing Scorpius to deliver the answer.

 

Scorpius makes a strange squeaking sound, rather like a mouse, and he almost consumes his whole bottom lip. “… She said yes!”

 

    “Oh, that’s brilliant, Scorpius,” Albus replies, grinning reassuringly. “That’s absolutely wonderful.”

    “I know! And we’re going to the Three Broomsticks on Saturday! Isn’t it wonderful?”

    “Yes. As I said.” Albus clears his throat. “But, um, isn’t the fourteenth on Tuesday?”

Scorpius thinks about this. “Oh… Oh, piss.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Albus says, “oh, well,” and places his tea to one side. “At least you’re going out at all.”

    “Yeah. Exactly.”

    “And it’s Rose. It’s the big one. Future wife, and all that.”

Scorpius blushes profusely. “Oh, stop.”

    “It’ll be nice to have you in the family.”

   “Don’t you talk about ‘family’ with me,” he says, raising an eyebrow dangerously. Albus backs down.

Then, they go silent for a moment, as the wind crescendos to a wail outside.

Albus clears his throat again. “Well, you have nothing to worry about. You’re well prepared.”

    “Oh, yeah,” Scorpius starts up again, still grinning almost insanely. “She is going to be very impressed.”

    “I’m sure that she is,” says Albus, picking his mug back up and making for the door. He stops before turning the handle and bends down, patting Scorpius on the hand. “Well done. And good luck.” Scorpius smiles stupidly back it him, and he leaves.

Once out in the corridor, Albus relieves himself of his own painful smile and walks back up to the dorms, no longer bothered about how much tea he spills.


	2. The Oceans Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus gives Scorpius some advice, with physical aid.

 

On the tenth of January, 2023, everything in Albus Potter’s life got both incredibly difficult and incredibly wonderful at once.

 

England has and always will be temperamental, in every possible sense of the word. Especially so when concerning the weather as, only a week prior to this, they had been enjoying fairly bright days with moderate rain, and then suddenly a plague of rain showers swept across the Nation. However, in the Scottish highlands, exactly nobody noticed any change.

 

That is, except, for Albus and Scorpius, who would have certainly noticed change that day, not due to the weather but to concurrent events.

 

    “And I know I’m being a bit hopeful,” said Scorpius, who was spread eagled on his own bed with a pillow over his eyes, “but she’s definitely flirting back. Like, I actually genuinely think she likes me, now. She didn’t before, but she definitely does now.”

 

Albus, who was sat at the end of Scorpius’ bed with his feet in his lap, cackled at this. “You utter sap. She’s just kind. I bet she reckons you can finance her recent alchemy obsession, or something, since you’re so loaded.” He poked Scorpius’ toe with the tip of his wand, causing him to cringe and sit up. 

 

    “At least pretend to be happy for me,” Scorpius whined. “This is the first time I think a girl’s ever shown any interest in me.”

 

    “Not true,” said Albus, “Polly Chapman in alternate timeline number three.”

 

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “And would you stop bringing up that childish story? I can’t believe we wasted time in Fourth year writing that instead of studying. No wonder I’m failing my NEWTs.”

 

    “You’re not failing."

 

    “Yes I am.”

 

    “Oh, my — ugh,” Albus scoffed, “all you do is complain, why can’t you lighten up for like a second, Scorps?”

 

The other lad grunted unintelligibly at this. “I’m… Damn it, I’m just frustrated, alright? I’ve been waiting around for Rose to show interest for years and now she finally does… I don’t know, I’m feeling all this rubbish and everything seems so scary. I feel thirteen again.”

 

    “Well,” Albus began, shifting over next him. “You shouldn’t. You’ve grown up a lot since then.”

 

    “What do I even say to her, Al?”

 

Albus scoffed again at this. “What, like I’m some bloody expert?”

 

Shaking him slightly, Scorpius persisted. “You must have some idea. You have a sister.”

 

    “Well, that doesn’t — I mean…” Albus sighed, realising that this subject wasn’t going away just yet. “Look… Maybe if… How about you try chatting me up, pretend I’m Rose, alright, and I’ll tell you how much I want to slap you with a frying pan. Then you can adjust accordingly.”

 

Scorpius’ eyes lit up at this and he nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, okay. Alright. I’ll give you my best shot.”

 

    “Go for it.”

 

After taking a moment to warm up, Scorpius pulled a strained, constipated expression and smiled wonkily. “Hey, girl.”

 

    “Bugger off, nonce,” Albus instantly replied, affecting a high, girlish voice. 

 

Scorpius scowled. “Oh, come on, Al, give me a chance.”

 

    “Hey, exam conditions, I’m giving you no leeway.”

 

    “Sod this,” said Scorpius with crossed arms and a furrowed brow.

 

Albus grabbed his shoulder, turning his attention back on him. “Now, hold on, Scorp. You really like Rose, don’t you?”

 

    “Yes,” Scorpius replied, tight-lipped. “Yes, of course."

 

    “Well, as your best friend, and Rose’s cousin, I only want the best for both of you.”

 

Already dismissing the conversation, Scorpius tutted and rolled his eyes. “Right, so I’m ‘too good for her’ and I should just move on, or something, right?”

 

    “No,” Albus replied. “I’m going to teach you. With my little experience.”

 

At this, Scorpius raised an eyebrow, almost touched.

 

    “But you’ll have to be patient with me, alright?” said Albus.

 

    “Of course,” said Scorpius.

 

Then, Albus stood up and searched the dormitory for other Slytherin boys. Once he was satisfied with this, he sat back down on the bed and placed a hand on Scorpius’ knee.

 

    “Right.”

 

Scorpius looked down at his knee in mild interest. “Hm.”

 

    “That’s nice, right? It’s not too invasive?”

 

    “No. It’s just fine.”

 

Albus nodded, assuming a wise expression. “Exactly. It’s just fine. Not too intimate, but more friendly than a handshake.”

 

Evidently much more convinced by the whole situation now, Scorpius grinned and stared intently at Albus in wait of further advice.

 

    “So, now, my hand is on your knee, and the atmosphere is significantly cosier. However, we’re still not close enough to talk too affectionately, so stay general. I say, ‘I like your hair.”

 

    “Thank you,” Scorpius said instinctively before shaking his head and continuing, “uh, is what she’d say back.”

 

Albus suppressed a smirk. “Right. Yeah. Anyway, I’ve now broached the topic of appearance, so maybe with a slight stroke of the knee, “ he demonstrated this, “I say, ‘you look lovely all the time, but you look wonderful right now.”

 

Having always been reasonably vain, Scorpius was quite apparently flattered by all of this despite it, of course, being merely a demonstration. He certainly believed that, if all his subjects could be studied for like this, he’d be doing much better in them.

 

    “Now, at this point, Rose may be turning the colour you have, so you need to maintain this temperature for a bit,” Albus continued, chuckling as Scorpius hid his face with a hand. “You can’t accelerate too quickly, so just take it slow. Talk about what you two have been up to recently, keep it light. Then, when it feels like it might cool down, turn it up.”

 

Now positively rapt, Scorpius replied, “how?”

 

Albus didn’t respond, instead he slid the hand on Scorpius’ knee up just a few inches. He quickly looked up with concern. “Is that okay?’

 

    “Uh, yes,” said Scorpius, “but… Is that what I’m meant to do?”

 

    “Yes, exactly, just move up very slowly and make sure not to go too far or else you’ll seem desperate.”

 

Scorpius scoffed, “desperate? At this rate she’ll be wondering if I've already thought of names for our children.”

 

    “Do you want to kiss Rose, at any point, Scorpius?”

 

He practically melted at this. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

 

    “Then pay attention,” Albus snapped. “Now, you say something very personal. Like, like, 'I think you’re alchemy skills are just brilliant'."

 

    “I don’t do alchemy.”

 

    “I’m talking about Rose.”

 

Scorpius frowned “Is this how you think about your cousin?”

 

    “Good Lord, no, Scorpius!” Albus retracted his hand, now. “I’m trying to help you!”

 

    “Fine, fine, fine,” sighed Scorpius, grabbing the hand and placing it back with exasperation. “Carry on. What’s next?”

 

Albus did not reply immediately at this point, as he realised his hand was not in the same place it had been, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it. So he left it. “Uh… Oh, well, um, then you return to appearance, get her thinking about you now you’ve talked about her. So, you emphasise a part of your face, like your eyes,” he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes subtly, indeed drawing attention to them. Scorpius mimicked this, to surprisingly good effect.

 

    “Am I doing it right?” he asked.

 

As Albus scrutinised Scorpius’ attempt at beguilement, a sharp, burning sensation somewhere in his chest, around the clavicle, caused him to flinch slightly. He paused, then took away the hand on Scorpius’ thigh.

 

    “What? Is it wrong?” asked Scorpius, looking rather dejected. “Oh, I’m never going to get this. I’m hopeless.”

 

    “No, you’re not,” Albus said quickly, now holding Scorpius by his sides. “Just… Just keep looking at me. Don’t look away. Never look away.”

 

    “Okay, okay, I’m doing it.” Scorpius resumed the mildly surprised expression. “Is this right?”

 

    “It’s perfect.”

 

He nodded, apparently satisfied with this. “Alright, what’s next?"

 

    “Well…” Albus searched his mind for a response, but he could find nothing except the aching memory of that burning sensation and the vision of Scorpius’ face. “Uh… Then… Then you’d…” He looked carefully at his friend, helplessly trying to work out what on earth that sensation was meant to be. Embarrassment? He had touched him in a fairly concealed area, so that wouldn’t be strange. But it didn’t make him feel sick and dizzy like embarrassment usually would. So, then, perhaps it was just disgust? Or discomfort? Or… Or some mixture of the two?

 

    “What? What do I do next, Al?”

 

Still staring, dumfounded, at the other boy, Albus tried to form words while he mulled it over. “Then you… Try to just… Really… Really engage her.” He breathed in and out far too heavily. “Lots of eye contact.”

 

As Scorpius obeyed this command and fixed Albus with a solid stare, something finally clicked. And it was terrifying.

 

    “Then what?” Scorpius raised an eyebrow, his expression so gentle and patient.

 

Albus held his breath, then exhaled with great deliberation. “Hm. Well.” He regained consciousness at last, but this only amplified his comprehension of the situation. After another held breath, he replied, “then… Is when you’d kiss. I suppose.”

 

An utterly unwitting Scorpius shook his head despairingly. “See, this is the part I’m falling short on. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone, how am I supposed to…” He stopped in his tracks with apparent consideration. “This may be out of order, but you don’t think that you could… Maybe…"

 

    “I’m meant to be helping you, aren’t I?” Albus replied softly, his right hand moving slightly up past Scorpius' shoulder and against his neck. 

 

He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. Alright, show me how its done.” With this, he closed his eyes, almost in resignation, and waited. 

 

The pressure of all the oceans seemed to suddenly fall upon Albus, crushing him beneath their tempestuous waves. He was deep in the Marianas trench, surrounded by selkies, gasping for air and light. Scorpius was floating miles above sea level on a cloud of blissful ignorance, and although Albus grasped and thrashed about, trying to swim to the surface to call him, he remained in the same place, moving only ever downwards.

 

    “Albus?”

 

Then, suddenly, the oceans drained.


	3. Inciting Foolishness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius receives an evaluation of his 'technique', and Albus convinces him to take some more lessons in order to perfect it.

    “ _Obsecro tempus_.”

A thin, magenta wisp of light seeped from Albus’ wand and twisted itself into numbers. Once finished assembling, it read ‘0:00’. 1am, exactly.

Had he really slept that long? It had only been six o’clock when he and Scorpius finished. He hadn’t even had tea.

Usually, the feeling of having messy, unkempt hair and wearing unwashed day robes would have left him feeling rotten, but in truth he had never felt more serene. His whole body was floating, lying on a velvet lifeboat on the calm waves of the oceans; all the fear and confusion that had once been in him had been cast down into the murky depths below. 

Scorpius was only a few feet away, in his own bed. His wonderful, blessed bed, where it all took place. It was not tainted with obscene memories, like Jack Peterson’s bed was after the incident with him and Katherine Murdock. It was simply glowing with the memory of that afternoon, with just him and Scorpius. 

 

Just Scorpius. Just Scorpius with his peach fuzz and his platinum hair and that smell of cardamom and taste of peppermint. Scorpius, with his pleasantly bewildered eyes and his flustered little chuckle and the way his face softened as it creased like the posh wrapping paper that Mr. Potter only used for the special gifts.

 

Albus felt himself shiver as he thought about it all. He absolutely needed it again. He wanted to go over there right now and wake Scorpius up and kiss him vehemently. Can one kiss vehemently? Albus didn’t care. He would never care about English grammar again — not that he had to, considering they don’t teach such things at Hogwarts.

 

As his eyes began to close again, he heard rustling nearby. Then his curtains opened up slightly, two pale thumbs appearing through them.

 

    “You awake?”

 

Albus sat up abruptly, clearing the magical wisps from the air. “Looks like it.”

 

Climbing through the curtains and onto the bed, Scorpius whispered, “I have a couple of questions about… Earlier.” 

 

Scorpius' face was mostly cast in shadow, illuminated softly by the dim glow of the lantern above his own bed. Albus knew that he, however, was completely shrouded in darkness, so he allowed himself a lazy simper. “Mhm?”

 

    “Was… Was I any good?”

 

With great self-restraint, Albus paused carefully before replying, “uh, yes, I’d say so.”

 

    “So, do I need to practice any more?”

 

At this, Albus frowned, then did a double take. He’d forgotten entirely — practice. It was all practice. Very effective practice, too, as they had evolved quickly from bumping noses and clashing teeth to a good, steady pace and movement. But, as he reminded himself once again, practice was all it was intended to be.

 

    “Well?” Scorpius clasped his hands together nervously. “Do I?”

 

    “Uh,” Albus stalled, rather distracted by the feeling of Scorpius’ leg touching his own through the blanket. “Um… Yes. Yeah, there’s definitely, you know, stuff. Stuff you need to work on. Techniques.”

 

    “Oh,” said Scorpius, somewhat hurt. “I suppose I can’t master it in an afternoon… Would you mind teaching me more, Albus? Please? So I can get really good?”

 

    “Yes,” Albus responded at once before correcting himself, “I mean, no, I don’t mind. I’m happy to help. Very happy.”

 

Scorpius let out a great sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you so much. I owe you one, mate.” Before he could disappear through the curtain again, Albus grabbed him by the calf.

 

    “How about,” he began, “in return for my aid _,_ you read Maurice?”

 

    “What, that tedious old muggle novel?” scoffed Scorpius. “No way am I — although, I suppose you _are_ doing something fairly risky in helping me… Oh, alright then. But I resent this."

 

Albus, once again thankful for the cover of night, grinned as he let Scorpius return to his bed.

 

It was another hour before he was able to fall asleep again and, in that hour, he rationalised that this whole situation was, without a doubt, perfectly normal and even mutually beneficial. Scorpius got to feel that he was improving in technique — and who’s to say he wasn’t? Meanwhile, Albus didn’t need to make it a bigger deal than it was. Perhaps his feelings about it were not entirely the same as Scorpius’s, but that was no reason to make things complicated. It was all quite simple: as long as he didn’t let this change the status of their relationship, they’d be fine.

 

Of course, not everybody would understand that, so there would have to be precautions should they decide to carry on like this. Jack Peterson was a terrible sneak, after all, and Darren Kingsley would definitely tell his girlfriend, Katherine Murdock, and Katherine would tell Jack during one of their ’study sessions’, so he couldn’t know either. Perhaps it would be best if nobody knew. He wouldn’t want to be the one known for inciting foolishness, after all.

 

And so Albus decided that, if he wanted another chance to feel the heady, exotic sensation that he experienced the previous afternoon, he would just have to keep it all to himself. He was capable of that. The means are always justified by the ends.


	4. Zap of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus finds out a new way to get his kicks, and Scorpius demonstrates his ability to brownnose.

When they attended lessons at the beginning of first year, the halls of the school had felt like those of Cathedrals. The whole castle felt like a great palace with ceilings reaching into the heavens, so high that it was almost as if one could break through a tile and shake hands with God. 

 

Now, in their Sixth year, they could nearly brush the ceilings with their fingertips, if they got a good spring upwards. The halls became shorter and narrower and felt more like rabbit burrows with large windows than sweeping hallways in a medieval castle. Despite this, they could still sometimes feel infinitely empty and, if you ever wanted some solitude, it could easily be found around a dark corner.

 

The large, cobblestone floors and walls made keeping quiet rather an ordeal, but they managed alright. Whenever Scorpius let out a shrill gasp or giggle, Albus would silence him any way that was convenient. Most often, it would be with his own lips. 

 

Every time a door creaked in the distance and echoed throughout the empty corridors, the two boys would jump and freeze, listening for footsteps. Then, inevitably, none would come and they’d resume their activity.

 

Occasionally, a pupil would walk past them to get to the old storage cupboard and they would have to pull apart, chatting idly for a few moments until the student retrieved what they needed and left. They didn’t have to, really, since the only students visiting the storage cupboard were those who were in detention at this hour and were looking for cleaning supplies to ‘build character’ with — and they would always be rather caught up in (verbally) cursing the teacher that gave them the detention.

 

Sometimes a teacher would pass by the alcove and glance at them as they leant against the wall, affecting casual stances. Whenever this happened, a spark of electricity would set off in Albus’ head, spidering down to his throat, chest and stomach. It was sickening, but also enlivening. After the second time this happened, he decided to call it the zap of reality. After all, it was reality that was being shot through him each time. The reality surrounding both this particular situation and, indeed, his own life. The most prominent thought that struck him in the aftermath of these instances was that of his father. Whatever would national treasure, Harry Potter, think of all this?

 

For the most part, however, they were alone.

 

    “You’re doing it wrong.”

 

    “Oh, _I'm_ doing it wrong?” Albus scoffed. “And how would you know?”

 

    “I can feel it, it’s not right,” said Scorpius, gently pushing Albus away. “You’re doing it in the wrong spot. Let me try, now.”

 

Albus let his head rest against the cool stone wall as Scorpius began to kiss the outline of his jaw, beginning near the chin and ending next to the ear. He was right, of course. This was an improvement on his own attempt.

 

    “Well?”

 

He sighed quietly. “Mm. Better.”

 

    “Told you so,” tutted Scorpius as he pulled away, “I’m practically better at this than you. I don’t know what I’m wasting my time for, honestly.”

 

    “I resent that.”

 

Rolling his eyes and repressing a smile, Scorpius glanced away. “Well, I didn’t say you’re _terrible_ …"

 

Albus raised an eyebrow, subtly bringing him closer with one arm around his waist. “Am I?”

 

    “You’re generous,” said Scorpius, still not meeting his eye. “Considering you probably have far better things to do than carry on like this with me.”

 

        “We’re not ‘carrying on’,” Albus replied. “I’m just giving you the experience everybody should have. Everybody does it, it’s just, you know... Boarding school culture.”

 

Apparently satisfied with this, Scorpius shrugged and leant forward to resume his prior occupation. As he moved down towards the underside of Albus’ chin in the crook between his jaw and his neck, Albus let out a sharp sigh that prompted Scorpius to quickly pull away. 

 

    “Shush,” he hissed, placing a hand over Albus’ mouth. “You can mock me if you like, but try and be quiet about it.”

 

Albus gave a muffled laugh before taking Scorpius’ hand away. “I wasn’t mocking you, I was just _encouraging_ —“

 

The terrifying sound of court shoes clacking against the floor nearby pushed them unceremoniously apart, even further than they would stand in casual conversation. After another moment, the Head Potions teacher, about whom Rose had been raving just the other day, appeared. She was shaped like a pepper pot and had a pair of large, oblong glasses framing two steel blue eyes that seemed to rip through one’s very soul like a steak knife.

 

As the most recent zap of reality passed, Albus felt rather weak, too feeble to come up with an excuse this time.

 

    “What are you two doing out here? It’s almost time for dinner.” She narrowed her eyes so much that they became merely two thin lines on her face.

 

Scorpius stepped up before Albus could even think about it. “We’re talking about our favourite teachers, miss,” he replied sweetly, giving her the most saccharine smile to have ever crossed his lips. “I was just saying that Albus is mad to think that Professor Farrowgleam is the best, because you’re both academically superior and a total catch, might I add. That ex-husband of yours is probably kicking himself, right now.”

 

Quite clearly taken aback by this, her eyes widened this time to the size and shape of saucers. After a second, she giggled almost girlishly, then patted Scorpius on the head. “Well, aren’t you just the dearest little thing?” she cooed. “Oh, if only my sons were like you, Malfoy.”

 

   “I do _not_ think Professor Farrowgleam is the best,” Albus muttered, kneeing Scorpius in the back of the leg and eliciting a sharp hiss for silence from him.

 

    “No physical contact, please,” the potions teacher snapped, jabbing her wand at Albus and sending him gliding back a couple of feet. “And don’t laugh at a teacher, Potter.”

 

Also stifling laughter at this, Scorpius smiled at her brighter still and said, “well, if that’s all, miss, Potter and I shall see you in the Great Hall. We do hope you’ll wave at us all the way from that table at the front.”

 

    “Oh, of course!” She swooned again. With this, she finally left and they both caught what she said as she departed: “what a lovely little boy!"

 

    “ _What a lovely little boy!_ ” Albus mimicked, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve never seen anything so sickening in my life. Will the day ever come when you can’t endear adults while simultaneously taking the ever-loving piss out of them?”

 

“Nope,” Scorpius replied. “My boyish charm is ingrained in my very nature, I shall always be their pet, I’m afraid."

 

Feeling rather like one of these teachers would now, Albus smiled gently at him and placed a hand on his arm. “I can live with that. Come on, let’s get some food."

 


	5. Bowl Cut and Curtains Throw Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius witness two first years brawl. Meanwhile, Albus stumbles upon a conflict of his own -- concerning Scorpius.

The dreaded Valentine's day was only a couple of weeks ahead, and Albus was completely distracted from his studies as he looked up at the overcast sky and thought about how to approach the matter. Buying or making a gift would be, as James would put it, ‘totally naff’, and yet he couldn’t just ignore it altogether. He needed to at least get a card or something to make it official. Those were just the rules of, like, life.

 

Albus swept this all from his mind as Scorpius emerged from one of the halls and crossed over the green to join him on the little grassy mound he was sitting on.

 

    “Is that the magical creatures essay?”

 

    “Afraid so.”

 

Scorpius tutted. “You didn’t have to take it, you know. You should never take a class just because your friend is in it.”

 

    “That’s not the only reason I chose care of magical creatures, actually,” Albus replied, pursing his lips indignantly. “You know, you’re terribly self-absorbed.”

 

    “Oh-ho!” cried Scorpius, “ _I’m_ self-absorbed, am I? Well, that’s awfully rich, coming from the lad who wrote himself a love interest because he was too lame to get one in real life.”

 

    “Shut up,” Albus hissed, shoving him playfully. “Nothing happened, did it? It was just a red herring, so the reader wouldn’t suspect that she was the daughter of Voldemort.”

 

Rolling his eyes so ostentatiously that they might have rolled right off his face, Scorpius scoffed. “Honestly, I don’t know why we ever thought anybody would read that thing. I’m very glad we hid it behind that publishers in London. Hopefully it shall never see the light of day again.”

 

    “Well, we’d better not jinx it,” said Albus.

 

At this moment, a pair of bespectacled Ravenclaw first years flounced past, barking at each other without any regard for their surroundings.

 

    “I’ve got a first edition, _and_ it’s signed!” boasted the one with uneven curtains of greasy hair framing his specs.

 

    The second one, who was sporting a wonky bowl cut that exposed too much of the left side of his scalp and not nearly enough of the right, snapped back, “well _I’ve_ got a zeroth edition!”

 

    “There’s no such thing! Liar!”

 

    “You’re a liar! I bet you’ve never even read the series!

 

    “I bet _you’ve_ never even seen the movie!”

 

Bowl Cut then socked Curtains in the stomach and kneed him in the crotch, leaping and whooping triumphantly before Curtains struck back at Bowl Cut’s chin with his elbow.

 

    “Merlin’s beard,” Albus muttered. “Shouldn’t we intervene?”

 

Scorpius shook his head vehemently, utterly wrapped up in the conflict. “No way. I want to see these pooftas brawl.”

 

Albus flinched. “Pooftas?”

 

    “Well, look at them!” Scorpius whispered excitedly. “It’s like watching two women fight over dress robes on sale. It’s _wonderful_.”

 

    “That’s no reason to—“ Albus began, but he was swiftly cut off by Scorpius’ chanting of ‘fight!’ over and over.

 

Eventually, Curtains stood triumphant, having subdued Bowl Cut by uppercutting him in the throat and leaving him breathless.

 

    “Say you’re a liar and that you’ve never met L.Z Rotterham! Say it!”

 

A feeble Bowl Cut mumbled his defeated apology and, his blood-thirst sated, Curtains let him go.

 

    “What a show!” Scorpius cried gleefully, applauding as he turned to Albus. “I do love it when first years fight. It’s quite a sight to behold.”

 

Albus pursed his lips, this time in reproach. “Child on child brutality aside, I think you should be more careful about your language.”

 

    “Oh, don’t be so gay,” Scorpius replied, snorting derisively. “Did you see the chubby one’s haircut? Lord, he looked like a rejected Beatle.”

 

    “You do realise,” said Albus, lowering his voice now, “that you’re being a touch hypocritical?”

 

Scorpius cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “How so?"

 

Rather at a loss for words here, Albus simply waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I just… I was joking.”

 

    “Oh, right.” Scorpius shrugged and reclined fully on the grass, throwing an arm over his eyes as the sun made the suggestion of peering through a gap in the clouds.


	6. De-Somethinging the Thingmajig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus helps out one of the Herbology professors and is paid in proverbs.

Albus was fuming.

 

Stumbling down the steps that lead towards the greenhouses, he swore and cursed under his breath. He was chuntering with such conviction that he had to hold his wand aloft and pointed at the sky to avoid singeing his robes again.

 

That wretched girl was a pain, an utter nuisance. She was called Georgia Carberry and she had beady, piggy eyes and a sickening little button nose, and Albus rather felt that she was the picture of that woman from ‘the Informal Hogwarts Record of Terrible Teachers’ — written by either a Granger or a Weasley or both.

 

    “It wasn’t even my fault!” he complained to the heavens. “She’s the one who was too cack-handed to hold the cauldron straight!”

 

As he continued on his tirade, he missed a step going down and tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, grazing his knee on the stone as he fell. He cursed again and a magenta spark flew from his wand.

 

Suddenly, a mild chill ran up his spine as he felt a presence behind him.

 

    “Ay up, Potter. That’s not very appropriate language, is it?"

 

Upon turning around, he looked up to see one of the Herbology teachers looming over him. The professor was holding a shovel like a sceptre and had her wand tucked into a small pair of wellington boots.

 

    “Professor Balderick!” Albus cried, scrambling to his feet and hastily tucking his shirt back in. “What brings you here?”

 

    “It happens that I work here, mad enough,” the professor drawled. “That may have come as a surprise, as I’m so ill attired for gardening.”

 

Albus hung his head. “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to cheek you.”

 

    “What're you doing out of lessons?” Balderick asked, passing by him to get to the large paddock near the greenhouses. 

 

    “I have special permissions, Miss,” Albus explained as he followed after her. “From the headmistress. And my dad.”

 

Balderick once again, very calmly, raised her eyebrows. “Special permissions?”

 

    “I can get a bit explosive, at times,” elaborated Albus, “so, if I am getting visibly upset, they send me out to take a breather. I’m allowed up to ten minutes, and then if I’m still upset I have to go to the hospital wing.”

 

    “Well, that sounds like a very reasonable deal.”

 

    “It does tend to help. Only…” Albus glanced at the ground, tracing a pattern in the grass with his toe. “I don’t like to do it too often. Everyone reckons I’m putting it on to get out of classes. But I _like_ potions, Miss, and it wasn’t my fault, anyway, it was _bloody_ Georgia Carberry—“

 

When Balderick shot him a concerned look, Albus simmered down.

 

She took her wand out of her boots and aimed it carefully at the ground, concentrating intensely. Albus went to question this, but decided not to break her focus right now.

 

Suddenly, something that looked like a horribly disfigured potato shot out of the ground and a surprisingly composed Professor Balderick struck the creature with a spell that had the brightness and intensity of a lightning bolt. After an almighty flash of light that rendered Albus rather dizzy, the creature was nowhere to be found.

 

    “Swish and flicker…” Albus muttered, gazing in awe at the tiny flecks of dust floating about the now empty space in which the thing had stood.

 

    “Aye, none of that, now,” Balderick snapped, frowning at him. “If you’re planning on hanging about, you might as well help out. Put your hand to the ground and tell me when you feel vibrations.”

 

Albus obeyed and proceeded to nod when he felt a subtle rumbling under the soil. Sure enough, another strange, misshapen animal emerged from the ground and was promptly obliterated.

 

    “It weren’t always this humane, mind,” Balderick remarked after a couple more of these. “Used to need these great chuffing ferrety efforts that’d rip ‘em to shreds. Now we can just zap away and they don’t feel nowt.”

 

    “Well,” said Albus, shielding his eyes as Balderick rallied up for another go, “lots of things were messed up in those days. My dad says students used to get paddled. I thought that was just something people did for fun, not an actual form of punishment.”

 

    “Ah, I remember my first paddling,” Balderick replied, smiling almost in fond nostalgia. She decimates the rest of the odd little creatures before speaking again, this time with a brighter tone. “How are you feeling now, chuck?”

 

    “I’m still not great,” said Albus.

 

Balderick hummed pensively at this, then responded, “well, if you come with me and help set up for my next lesson, we can have a little chat, yeah?”

 

    “Yeah. Alright.” Albus grinned.

 

Now that the paddock had been sufficiently de-… Something’d (Albus wasn’t at all sure what it was they were culling out there), he assumed there would be little else to do. He was proven quite wrong, however, as Balderick started him doing jobs in the greenhouse.

 

    “You can scrub those pots right clean so they don’t cross-contaminate soils, and then I’d like you to just wipe the windows down enough so that the sun can pass through nicely.” When confronted with a rather overwhelmed Albus, Balderick added gently, “it’ll take your mind off things, love.”

 

Not eager to return to lessons now that he’d been absent for twenty minutes, Albus swallowed his pride and began his assigned task, silent at first in his diligence.

 

By about the third pot, his mind wandered away from the witty comebacks he wished he had been in the right mind to think of at the time and it sauntered to the recently neglected topic of Scorpius. As he scraped about the inside of the 30 centimetre pot in his hands (the largest yet), he at last found refuge in the thought of returning to his dormitory that night and seeing Scorpius again. The list of chores became at once inconsequential as Albus thought about what he might do upon seeing his friend again. First, he’d embrace him and complain about the rotten day he’d had, then he would press his lips against Scorpius’ forehead and tell him that none of it mattered in the end, because they had each other’s company now.

 

Albus blinked, then shook this thought from his mind. Scorpius’ voice rang in his head, singing, ‘ _Don’t be so gay’._ It was a foolish image, anyway, and it was hardly an opportune time to be thinking about intimate exchanges. He didn’t want to give Professor Balderick the wrong impression, after all.

 

    “You’re very pensive, dear.”

 

Nearly dropping the pot, Albus started. “Oh — I just… I’m just trying to cool off. You know. After the whole outburst in class.”

 

    “Very sensible,” said Balderick. “Focus on one task at a time, and focus well. It’s better that you get one thing done perfectly in a year than a host of things done half-assedly in a day.”

 

Albus struggled to restrain from rolling his eyes.  “If I had a galleon for every time I heard that—“

 

    “You’d be rich, in both money and wisdom!”

 

He chuckled earnestly at this, placing the now adequately sanitised pot back in its place. As Balderick continued cleaning and honing her gardening tools, Albus mulled something over for a moment before speaking again.

 

    “Professor Balderick?”

 

She smiled pleasantly.

 

    “Is… Am I… Is it strange to want something and not want it at the same time?”

 

Balderick took this question and appeared to mull it over in her own mind, rolling the potential answer around on her tongue and chewing on it thoughtfully. Then, she pursed her lips and sucked in a long breath before exhaling again, loudly.

 

    “The question,” she began after a while, causing Albus to pause his pot cleaning for a second, “is not whether or not you want it, but rather whether you really need it. Will it make your life any better?”

 

Albus answered this — but only in his head.

 

    “You have to ask yourself,” she continued, “if this thing is something that makes you happier, or healthier, or a better person, whether you like it or not.”

 

    “How do I find that out?”

 

She thought carefully about this, too, before responding, “it’ll come to you.”

 

And, coincidentally, that is the exact moment that it did.

 


	7. Whose Line Is It Anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius explains his absence yesterday and Albus plans to employ coitus interruptus -- surprisingly not something that can be cast with a wand.

It’s always infuriating when people won’t just stay in one place so that one can conduct important dialogues at a moment’s notice.

 

It was the first lesson of the day. A thoroughly disgruntled Albus shoved past the messily intertwined Katherine and Donovan, and he held back a retch as he caught sight of them slobbering over one another savagely. The day was already off to an absolutely rotten start.

 

Scorpius hadn’t been at breakfast. Nor had he been in bed at six, nor in the common room the previous evening when Albus had rushed back from the greenhouses. The last time Albus had seen Scorpius was in their Care of Magical Creatures lesson just after lunch, and he had been perfectly normal then. Albus already had all sorts of ideas about where he might be, none of them particularly attractive.

 

The more reasonable ones was not necessarily the one that Albus fixated on most. This was because, before Scorpius had left for his Charms and Albus for Arithmancy, he had mentioned something about Rose that Albus had blocked out. He’d been doing this whenever Scorpius mentioned Rose, as it was always a rather painful topic. Whenever she wasn’t the topic of discussion, he could almost imagine that she wasn’t the sole reason for this somewhat messy situation.

 

Before he could consider different circumstances, however, a head of platinum hair caught Albus’ attention and he waded frantically through the dense syrup of people until he reached it.

 

    “Scorpius?!?”

 

The boy turned around, confirming his identity. “Oh, hi, Al. Listen, I’m in a little bit of a hurry, so if you don’t mind—“

 

    “Where have you been?” Albus demanded, dragging Scorpius aside and away from the crowd. “You weren’t in house last night. At all.”

 

    “Oh,” Scorpius began, “I was in the hospital wing. I sprained my ankle on the stairs on my way to Charms. A right bitch of a thing, that is, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve been using them for six years and still I can’t fathom—“

 

Albus silenced him with a accusatory finger. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were?"

 

Scorpius scoffed, “well, I’m terribly sorry I can’t carry an iPhone around Hogwarts, _dear_.”

 

Refusing to be endeared by this, Albus continued to glare at him indignantly. “You could have had someone leave a note. Anything would have been nice.”

 

    “Son of a banshee, Al, you’re not my mother,” Scorpius cried, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Oh, by the way, I finished Maurice while I was in there. Didn’t see any point in doing homework since I could use the ankle thing as an excuse, but there was nothing else to do.”

 

Albus froze. His expression softened. “Really?”

 

    “Yeah! It’s not too bad, actually. Didn’t love the ending, I must be honest. I thought he would have done fine if he’d kept at it with that hypnotist, but I suppose he’s meant to be, like, edgy and punk rock or something?”

 

    “Something like that,” Albus muttered, “but… But then… You know.”

 

Scorpius beams pleasantly. “Know what?”

 

Holding his arms out vaguely now, as if reaching for something, Albus pauses and trains his eyes on Scorpius, who maintains a pleasant smile. “… The valley of the shadow of life. You understood that, didn’t you?”

 

    “Of course!” Scorpius cried, practically indignant.

 

    “Then you know,” said Albus, his voice almost a whisper now. “That I love you.”

 

At this moment, he became submerged beneath the murky waters of doubt again. Scorpius’ blank face was as pale and matt as an overcast sky; it was unflinching, betraying no thoughts. Albus remained still, suspended in the dark and immobilised with uncertainty. He licked his lips.

 

    “Hilarious,” said Scorpius at last, quirking one brow up. “Yeah, I got the reference, mate. Look, I told you I read the book, alright? I don’t lie. You don’t need to quote it at me to make sure I’m capable of finishing it. Anyway, I really must go, so I’ll see you in Magical Creatures, yeah?”

 

Virtually soldered to the ground, Albus cleared his throat and glanced down as he let out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah."

 

Then Scorpius smiled his sweet, pacific smile and pivoted swiftly on his toe, disappearing into the crowd again. Albus remained locked in place, staring after Scorpius as his mind waded helplessly in a scummy congealment of mortification and a sort of cathartic relief. He did it, at least. Even if he made a complete fool of himself.

 

Albus hardly spoke for the rest of the day and, when he did, it was never to Scorpius. Now, he didn’t want to be that person. He usually found those people tedious and petty, but there was nothing he wanted to say to him. He’d said what he thought would be the best thing to say, and Scorpius had taken it with such ignorant levity that he hardly thought it was worth saying anything again unless he fancied being regarded as a clown.

 

It wasn’t Scorpius’ fault, of course. Albus knew that. He hadn’t exactly challenged Scorpius on his misconception. And yet, he found it very hard not to blame him. For how could he not have been delighted to hear those words being said to him? Everybody likes being loved. He should have been visibly taken aback or pleasantly flattered or, well, anything else. It was unbelievable that he could just wave away something like that, as if he thought Albus would never say anything of the sort. Scorpius was anything but stupid, and yet… 

 

Yet he still didn’t understand. And he still hadn’t stopped calling the first years ‘pooftas’ or teasing Richard Nurse for having a hearing aid and waving a camp hand at him and going " _Nursey! Nursey boy!”_ whenever the two crossed paths. Despite everything he and Albus had been doing, he was utterly unchanged. Meanwhile, Albus hardly felt like a relative to himself. He might as well have changed colour, have turned bright purple or green like poor Amanda Thorpe after the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical they did in class the other day. He felt like he’d left Albus Severus Potter in the dormitory on that bed and now he was just one of the Hogwarts ghosts, floating about and engaging in whirlwind dalliances with hidebound mortals.

 

So he resolved to use the one thing left of his corporeal connection to give Scorpius his own zap of reality. Albus would not only avoid speaking to him, but he would not hurry behind a bookcase with him at lunch, nor would he climb into Scorpius’ bed that night — and he would glue his curtains shut with magic so that Scorpius could not climb into his.

 

Being young and as confident as he was ill-equipped to handle anything more complex than the construction of a sandwich, Albus thought this was a brilliant idea.


	8. One Hour Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius prepares for date night and Albus is really happy for him, just really utterly chuffed, just perfectly overjoyed, just --

All previous observations would suggest that Albus should have seen all this coming, and you would be absolutely right to think that. However, I do implore you to withhold judgment. Life is so very fickle and it can be a nightmare to manage. Especially in situations like these, for you never know when your last kiss will be your _last kiss_.

 

None of this concerns Scorpius, of course. 

 

It is a perfectly splendid Saturday morning. The sun has made its annual appearance and the clouds have parted as if the sun were Moses and they the red sea. The castle and its grounds look almost like a gingerbread scene, with every exposed surface decorated with thick sheets of snow. 

 

Albus is clearly overjoyed for him. This is evident as, after Scorpius told him all about it the other day, Albus has been smiling so much that he looks almost in pain. Scorpius finds this terribly amusing, of course, because Albus never really smiles like this, so he must be especially pleased about it. After all, this is the culmination of years of tireless harassment pleading and hoping and wishing, and now she has finally melted like the fine vintage cheese she is. Scorpius has spent ages thinking that one up, and he reckons it fits.

 

They stand in front of the mirror in the dormitory, equally filled with anxiety. Scorpius knows this because Albus doesn’t say a word as he helps him tie his father’s best mustard tie and he can feel Albus’ hands shaking slightly. His jaw is clenched.

 

    “It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” Scorpius remarks, grinning reassuringly. “But it’s worth it, right? Hey! We could be brothers-in-law! Wouldn’t that be select?”

 

Strangely, Albus seems to grimace for a second before smiling forcefully again with a vague nod.

 

    “Thank you ever so much for helping me,” says Scorpius. He pats Albus on the arm and nudges him playfully. “I’m sure all the practice will pay off. Rose will be utterly blown away. You can tell your nieces and nephews all about it!”

 

Again, Albus flinches at this, but maintains his grin. “I’m very happy for you, Scorps.”

 

    “I should say so! She is _your_ cousin. The Weasleys have rather struck gold in the gene pool, it seems."

 

At this, Albus’ somewhat aggressive smile softens into his usual, significantly more organic expression — half closed eyes and lips parted only slightly, rather than stretched apart in a twisted manner as they were before. He glances down. Scorpius isn't massively surprised by this, however. Everybody likes to be complimented.

 

He turns towards the mirror and begins to inspect his apparel — a set of fine dress robes, purchased last year by his father, coloured similarly to the sky.  Considering the excellent weather, this colours them quite garishly.

 

    “It feels tight,” Scorpius mutters, patting his stomach gingerly. “Is it too tight? Oh, piss, I knew I shouldn’t have eaten toast today.”

 

As if waking from a nap, Albus jumps to attention. “It’s fine. It’s… Brilliant. You look brilliant.”

 

    “Well,” says Scorpius, “that’s brilliant, then. But you’re sure I’m not—”

 

    “You’re no bigger than me,” Albus replies, although they both know full well the lack of truth in the statement.

 

Only half interested in the outfit anyway, Scorpius waves this away. “Whatever. Rose is so kind and thoughtful, she won’t be bothered by a little extra width. Right?”

 

    “It’s just more to love,” Albus says.

 

Scorpius takes the stairs two at a time. He would take three but since the conversation previously, he feels somehow heavier than he did a few moments ago.

 

As he races towards the common room entrance, Scorpius shouts up the stairs, “later, Al! I’ll tell you all about it the minute I get back!”

 

This, naturally, elicits disgruntled hushes and reproachful tutting from some of the other Slytherins — particularly the second year girl who spent all this past term attempting to flatter Scorpius to no avail. She doesn't even waver from her surly expression. He feels a glimmer of pity for her as he steps out into the dungeon corridors; it can’t be fun to watch somebody you like going off with somebody else. This doesn't concern him too much, however. After all, in only a matter of minutes now, he shall be on a real, non-imaginary date with Rose Granger-Weasley. And there is absolutely nothing that could go wrong.


	9. The Cold Slap of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius has a great date with Rose. For, like, five minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw swearing

Scorpius wraps a hand in his scarf and tries to scratch away the frost on the window. Once there is a sufficient peephole, he peers into the warm interior of the Three Broomsticks.

 

Valentines Day having come and gone, the decorations are no longer there, but the walls are still a deep maroon. All the tables have been draped in majestic red tablecloths, and the chairs upholstered with alabaster white padding, the booths also bearing ornate gilded carvings on their sides. The barkeep tends to pick a theme for the month, often depending on the main Holidays taking place in them. In January, their partner died. The whole tavern was decorated with a gentle floral theme.

 

He squints — and there she is. Resplendent as ever in a vivacious, saffron-yellow dress and a cream cardigan. Her hair is slicked back into a simple but classy up-do. She is chatting away animatedly with one of the waitresses, evidently talking about her latest venture in Alchemy.

 

Scorpius mulls over all the pointers his good friend Albus has given him over the past month. A lot of them were focussed on the more intimate side of things, though, and he can’t entirely remember what he was meant to do upon meeting Rose. Maybe that’s the point — he’s supposed to dive straight in, like he and Albus did. Gosh, that lad is a genius.

 

Straightening his lapel, Scorpius slips inside, delicately fingering the petals of the flowers held behind his back. He approaches the table.

 

    “So, anyway, Georgia says he’s probably got a screw loose or something, and I’m like ‘uh, yeah, shock of the century,’ but I can’t say that because, like, it’s also sort of out of order, y’know?”

 

Scorpius leans towards the two girls. “Hey.”

 

Rose looks up, startled. “Oh! Hi, Scorp.” She turns back towards the waitress. “This is Scorpius, An. Scorpius, this is Anthea.”

 

    “Hello,” he replies, nodding with mild bemusement. Anthea smiles genially and leaves, allowing Scorpius to make his first move. He sits down opposite Rose, deciding to ignore the fact that she got the sofa side. He takes the small bouquet out from behind his back and lays it on the table. “I thought literal roses may be a touch predictable, so I got you some Zinnias instead.” He raises his eyebrows, accentuating his eyes as Albus said. “You don’t usually see them in the winter — they’re from my father’s Eternal Garden. He’s quite the florist, apparently. Did you know that Zinnias are code for 'intellectual beauty' in Flower Language?”

 

    “Oh, Scorpius, this is so sweet,” says Rose, smiling sweetly and taking the flower to examine it. “Actually, though, I think it’s the Kennedia that’s code for ’intellectual beauty’. I don’t know what Zinnias are for." 

 

Scorpius’ grin falters slightly. “Oh. Well, anyway, they’re pretty.” He beams once again. “Just like you.”

 

    “Well,” she replies, holding their colourful petals against her equally vibrant dress, “I don’t know if I come close, but thank you.”

 

They go quiet for a while, and Scorpius begins to feel his nerve slipping away. He quickly places a hand on her thigh, going pale for a second as he registers what he’s just done. Rose looks at him warily for a second, then smiles. He is relieved, at least until he realises she is smiling at the waitress, Anthea, behind him.

 

    “Another hot chocolate, please,” Rose says, turning her whole body towards the other girl so that Scorpius’ hand slides off. She glances over at him. “And you?”

 

    “The same,” Scorpius replies, and the waitress nods to both of them and leaves. He tries to mask his embarrassment by scratching the nape of his neck and craning it to look out the window. What did Albus say to do now?  “I like your hair,” he says at last.

 

Rose smiles. “Thank you.” When she gives no further response, Scorpius begins to perspire.

 

    “Uh," he stalls, glancing away as he tries to flash back to that afternoon in the dormitory, when Albus gave him his first ever lesson. He really was a brilliant coach, Scorpius thinks, and it’s almost a shame he won’t be doing practice with him anymore. Wait, no, not a shame. It’s not a shame that Rose agreed to go out with Scorpius. It’s good. It’s better than good. But the practice was also better than good.

 

    “So, how are you finding N.E.W.Ts?” Rose asks.

 

    “Hm? Oh.” He blinks, waking from his stupor. “Yeah, they’re going well, I reckon. What about you?”

 

    “Bit nervous, but I’m sure it’s just the usual jitters. I’m expected to ace potions and get at least a good pass on pretty much everything else.” She shivers suddenly and pulls her cardigan more tightly around her.

 

Remembering the time Albus offered Scorpius his cloak in their Care of Magical Creatures class in January and spent the whole lesson contentedly shuddering away, Scorpius immediately goes to take his own cloak from the back of his chair when Anthea turns up with their drinks.

 

    “Here you go, darling,” she says sweetly, placing the two hot chocolates down in front of them. “Oh, dear, Rosie, your teeth are chattering! Here, take me jumper, love.” She proceeds to pull off her black woollen jumper and hands it to Rose, her dainty white blouse revealing a slim, athletic figure through its faintly translucent fabric. Scorpius looks away furtively, and notices that Rose is averting her eyes as well.

 

Once the waitress leaves and Rose has donned her jumper, Scorpius lets out a small chuckle of relief.

 

    “That was a bit of a show, wasn’t it?” Rose remarks.

 

Scorpius nods, looking down furtively. “Yeah… I mean, I wasn’t staring, but I did notice it was a bit sheer.”

 

    “That’s why I love Anthea,” says Rose dreamily, “she’s so relaxed.”

 

After a second, he looks up, remembering another note from Albus. Scorpius fixes Rose with an intense stare, at the same time trying to once again beguile her with his eyes, just as he was taught. “You know,” he begins, affecting a somewhat sultry tone, “I think your alchemy skills are excellent.”

 

Rose rolls her eyes with a giggle. “You’re so odd, Scorpius. I must admit, I sort of like it.”

 

Practically beaming, Scorpius leans forwards and asks, “really? You don’t think I’m annoying?”

 

    “No,” says Rose. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his leg. “I think it’s excellent.”

 

Something strange and sickening courses through Scorpius’ body like lightning and suddenly the room is dim and he can feel cotton sheets beneath his legs and there is an overwhelming, unmistakable scent of cinnamon and nutmeg and it certainly isn’t coming from the boiled potatoes and roast chicken that the Three Broomsticks serves. The room is becoming smaller and greener and under the nutmeg there’s the faint smell of socks and citrus deodorant. He blinks. And then there is Rose, smiling and nodding and tilting her head like a sympathetic mother. Or rather, a cousin.

 

He manages to muster the discreet utter of, “I need to nip to the loo,” before dashing past the crimson and ivory tables and into the bathroom, at which point he looks in desperation for an exit.

 

His eye catches on the small window high on the opposing wall. Immediately, he places his hands on his waist and tries to calculate the logistics of it, wondering if he might not be too wide to fit through. Then, he remembers. ‘You’re no bigger than me’. What rubbish, Scorpius thinks. Anyone with common sense can see he’s bigger than a young man should be. Then he starts to wonder if Albus thinks he’s excellent, too.

 

As luck would have it, his first attempt at escaping through the window is successful. He tumbles down and is cushioned by the cotton-like snow beneath, and it is at that moment that he realises he left his cloak inside. However, he also realises that he is covered in snow and it will be quite plain what he was up to if he goes back in there now.

 

Scorpius collapses and rolls over onto his stomach, letting his face sting furiously as he buries it in the snow. Nobody shall be able to tell the difference between his frost-bitten cheeks and the stains of mortification. 

 

There is nobody else about, so he yells down into the earth as if hoping the minions of Hades will rise up and carry him back down with them so he never has to see the light of day again. His hand curls into a fist, forming a small snowball in his palm. Now he longs for the warmth of the tavern, but he scarcely wants to face going back. Nothing can shake from his mind that zap of reality that sent him back in time a whole month, back to when all that business started happening. He hoped the snow would numb the pounding in his head, but only now does he realise that it wasn’t coming from his head at all.

 

After seemingly no time at all, a hand rests on his shoulder and he starts, scrambling away and falling onto his back again.

 

His eyes swollen and possibly frozen shut, he can’t make out the figure before him. All except for a vague, dark blob. It must be Rose.

 

    “I’b sorreh,” he mumbles, his lips burning from the ice. “I meeded air.”

 

    “Scorpius,” says the person, decidedly not Rose as her voice is a fair bit higher. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

He lifts the hand not clenching a lump of snow to his face and rubs his eyes until his vision clears slightly. Now, he can make out a more distinct figure. Short, straight, dark hair, dark skin and bright green eyes.

 

Scorpius frowns. “You.”

 

Albus kneels down towards him and extends a hand. “Are you okay, Scorp? Rose is waiting in there, she didn’t know where you’d—“ He is cut off as Scorpius shoves him, clumsily getting to his feet.

 

    “Fuck you!” he cries, throwing the snow clenched in his right hand at him. 

 

A positively bewildered Albus struggles to get back to his feet, only for Scorpius to shove him again, this time yanking off his scarf and throwing that too. 

 

    “You ruined it!” Scorpius yells, tears pricking his eyes now. He wipes his face furiously, refusing to appear so pathetic. “The one bloody thing I’ve always wanted, that you knew I’ve always wanted! And you fucking well ruined it!” 

 

Evidently lost for words, Albus makes unintelligible noises of confusion, still trying hopelessly to stand up as Scorpius pushes him again and again. Eventually, he resigns to his fate and simply sits up in the snow, forgoing his legs. “Scorpius,” he says, struggling to keep control over his voice. “What are you—“

 

    “I hate you!” Scorpius professes, throwing both his gloves now. “You ruined everything.” He stops, catching his breath. As Albus continues to look up, confused and scared, Scorpius feels his chest burn, and he hates how horrible it feels. “You ruined me. I’m all wrong. I’m all wrong.”

 

Exhausted and lachrymose, he stumbles away, headed for the gates.

 

Albus, meanwhile, feels a zap of reality that isn’t thrilling or fun in the least. It is the cold slap of truth — Scorpius is right. He’s all wrong. It’s all so very, very wrong.

 

But if he must drown in this ocean, the world is coming with him. 

 


	10. The Revocation of Innocence, or Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus has to deal with the consequences of channeling his anger into causing natural disasters.

After two days of scrubbing stone and marble, the acrid smell of carbolic soap has practically destroyed Albus' sense of smell and taste — so, once he finally gets down to the Great Hall for a very lonely breakfast, he can hardly taste the strawberry jam he lathers liberally onto a piece of wholemeal bread.

 

The extravagant room with its tall ceiling and stone floor is especially quiet when there’s only one person within its walls. Albus can hear every bite of his toast, as well as every shuffle of the copy of The Daily Prophet held in the Potion teacher's hands. Of course they picked her to supervise him, because he didn’t already have enough reminders of the past month.

 

One might say that it should be fairly easy to evade suspension and community service in Hogwarts if the worst you have to do in order to earn such a sanction is flood an entire medieval town by liquifying vast amounts of snow with a heating spell one learnt only by eye — but then one would be quite missing the very nature of magic. While there have been many efforts over the years to contain and control it, magic is, at it’s core, an extension of one’s self. And if one’s self wants to set the world on fire because they’ve fallen out with their friend-slash-rentboy, then nature will simply take its cosmically baffling course.

 

Albus is given the day off for cleaning duty, as he needs to keep up with his studies despite being essentially a walking natural disaster. He doesn’t bother reading his textbooks or completing the homework, however. None of it really matters, after all, does it? If he can’t even control himself enough to not accidentally terrorise a village or corrupt his best friend, how should he be expected to maintain the concentration to write an essay?

 

In all seriousness, he doesn’t feel right. He feels, as Scorpius said, ‘all wrong’. His very blood is saturated with some indescribable disease, some plague of the mind and soul. And it’s not for same reasons that Jack Peterson never mentioned how he and the Hufflepuff, Gavin Tomas, got off. That’s not the issue; it’s Albus himself.

 

He can deal with not being a hero. He can deal with not being the best at flying or the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts. But he can never settle for being the one who ruined Scorpius’ dream coming true.

 

It isn’t even as though he has a clue what he did to him, precisely. Scorpius was not too clear about just how Albus ruined everything, but he wouldn’t have been in tears if he weren’t serious about it. 

 

Part of Albus desperately wants everything to reset to before it all started, and every other inch of him wants nothing of the sort. He knows perfectly well that, without all the ‘practice’ they would have been fine, and he would probably have never got so carried away. But here he is, alone and solemn, without the luxury of a terribly convenient plot device to allow him to fix the past.

 

He shuts his eyes tightly and wills for everything to go back to normal, for Scorpius to walk in and complain about Rose rejecting him and for Albus to feel nothing but fond, platonic affection for him. When he opens his eyes again, the date written at the top of the parchment before him is still ‘24th February’ and he is still very much alone in the dungeons.

 

Time trickles away like sand being sifted through filter paper. Albus rests his head down on the table and his eyes slowly flutter closed as he feels all the energy drain out of his body. Not much can revive him at this point.

 

And then, one of the few things that can walks through the door.

 

    “Rise and shine!” comes the sweet, adenoidal trill of a nearly forgotten voice.

 

Albus' head whips up and he blinks rapidly as he recalibrates. 

 

A hand appears on the table in front of him. “Oh dear, someone needs to catch up quite a bit. We did this like two days ago,” says Scorpius, who is now leaning over to read the beginning of the essay. Albus glances up at him in a some attempt to gauge his expression. For a second, Scorpius meets his gaze and he can see concern etched on his face.

 

    “I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning,” Albus explains, looking away now, “haven’t had the time.”

 

Scorpius clears his throat and stands up straight again. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

 

    “Why?’ says Albus. “You didn’t flood Hogsmeade.”

 

     “Well,” Scorpius begins, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him in the opposite direction, “I sort of did, in a way. Didn’t I?”

 

    “If you’re going to take credit for something I did, it might as well be something to benefit from.”

 

Scorpius tilts his head down and looks up at Albus indignantly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

    “I should be the one apologising, really,” Albus sighs. “Considering I’ve indirectly killed the future Granger-Weasley-Malfoy children.” When he doesn’t get an immediate reply, he steals a glance in Scorpius’ direction.

 

    “Not quite,” Scorpius' replies at last. Albus raises his eyebrows. “Rose was fairly understanding about everything, actually.”

 

    “… Oh?”

 

Scorpius bridles in place, looking intently at the corner of the table where he has begun to pick at the wood. “Yeah. We’re giving it another go.”

 

A strange mix of relief and disappointment meld together clumsily in Albus’ chest like two non-complementary lumps of playdoh. He fakes a cough. “Oh, well, that’s good.”

 

Sitting up again now and turning to look at him, Scorpius asks, “did the pastoral board know about your… Stuff?”

 

    “Yes. It doesn’t excuse mass damage of property, though.”

 

    “No, but…” Scorpius sighs, “they shouldn’t be this harsh. I had to slip past, like, three teachers to get in here.”

 

Albus looks up from his paper. “You weren’t given permission?”

 

    “If I had asked, they would have told you.” Scorpius returns his gaze, now. “And I expected that you wouldn’t want me to visit.”

 

    “And why wouldn’t I?”

 

Slightly incredulous, Scorpius goes to respond to this but seems to think better of it and shuts his mouth before looking back at the table again.

 

    “I don’t blame anybody but myself for stuff like this,” Albus replies, returning to his own occupation. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not your fault I’m all wrong.”

 

    “Just because you’ve got issues,” says Scorpius, much sterner now, “your anger isn’t any less valid. I’m sorry, Albus. I’m really, really sorry for Saturday. It’s just that… Well, stuff was happening in my head too, and I didn’t like it. I was — I mean, not… No, I was… Scared. I was sort of terrified of… Whatever, the point is, I take back every single thing I said, and if there is literally anything I can do to make it up to you, I’m there. Just say the word. I’ll tell them I provoked you, and then maybe I could help you with cleaning and everything!”

 

Albus shakes his head, smiling wanly. “No. That’s okay, Scorp. You’re my friend. Of course I forgive you.”

 

A luminescent beam splits across Scorpius’ face and he immediately embraces Albus side-on — only to pull away quite suddenly. They both freeze for a moment, then Scorpius reaches out and gingerly pats Albus’ shoulder.

 

    “Hey, so, uh…” Scorpius begins, glancing at the parchment on the table. “I’ve done this one already. I can help you. Least I could do, right?”

 

After a pause, Albus sighs and reclines in his chair. “I don’t see why not."

 

There is something particularly unsavoury about the way Scorpius ripped himself away so abruptly, second guessing something that was once so natural. They always used to hug each other when they were younger. They’d hug and they’d shove each other, and sometimes, in first year, Scorpius would get scared of all the creaking noises and he would run over to Albus’ bed and curl up at his feet like a cat. And never once was this strange. They never stopped and wondered if perhaps there was some deeper intent behind each interaction. It was a sort of intimacy that children enjoy with no qualms, as they are not shackled by the burdens of pubescence. Then, as soon as one turns about thirteen or so, an insidious plague of the mind makes every little thing, down to the grazing of shoulders or throwaway comments, become ever-so important and meaningful. 

 

Albus doesn’t regret a second of the time he spent with Scorpius during their little sessions, not entirely anyway, but he does long for a time when these things didn’t matter. When they could just be together and not have to dwell on the implications of every action and inaction. ‘Innocence’ is a silly word, because teenagers are not revoked of their innocence when they discover the many wonders of the world of sexuality. It is not innocence that protects children from the tribulations of the teenager. Children, teenagers, babies, toddlers — all are innately innocent, as they are all children at the base of it all. The thing that separates teenagers from the rest, however, is uncertainty. Children know where they stand with others. Babies and toddlers are not concerned with other’s feelings towards them. Teenagers, however, must always be on guard. For you can never know, even if it seems obvious to others, whether you are experiencing the most ardent of love or the most despicable of hate. 


	11. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius and Albus have another one of their late night chats and Scorpius comes to a crossroads. The idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw swearing

 

“ _Obsecro tempus._ "

 

Once again, as it does almost every night in which he is afflicted with sporadic insomnia, a sparkly little wisp of magenta oozes out of Albus' wand and contorts itself into numbers. They display precisely the same time he predicted — 0:00. Midnight is striking and, as he was over a month ago, Albus is cold, tired and alone with his thoughts.

 

After his suspension ended today, the first thing he did was hex Georgia Carberry — which, inevitably, gave him a detention. Hence why, by the time he got to bed, his roommates were all already asleep. Including Scorpius.

 

At least, he thought for certain that he was asleep. His curtains were drawn, just as the rest were, and the sheets were utterly still. However, as Albus vanishes the floating numbers with a wave of his wand, he feels a presence just outside his own drawn curtains and he sits up instinctively. Pulling himself out of his excitement, he lies back down again and sighs. Then someone gently twitches the curtains open a crack.

 

Albus squints at the illuminated tip of the wand that enters through the gap, blinded enough to not see the face behind it but intuitive enough to know its identity. “Scorpius?”

 

    “May I come in?”

 

He frowns, sitting up again, but nods nonetheless.

 

Scorpius clambers in and closes the curtains neatly behind himself as he sits cross-legged at the end of the bed. He blows on the tip of his wand and the magical light disperses like pollen from a dandelion, each spore gently landing on the covers and lighting the area evenly.

 

    “I see you’ve been practicing,” says Albus, raising his eyebrows at the display.

 

Scorpius smiles weakly. “Yeah. I do find that it helps.”

 

    “So… How’s my cousin?”

 

He seems surprised, but quickly resumes a neutral expression, replying, “yeah. She’s great.”

 

    “And you?”

 

Glancing down at the little sprinklings of light on the blanket, Scorpius shrugs. “Alright, yeah.”

 

Albus pauses for further information, then continues, “so, do you have a specific topic in mind or are you just… Chilling in my bed?”

 

    “Oh,” says Scorpius, rummaging in the inside breast of his night robes, “I know I should have waited till the morning to do this, but it’s midnight so it’s basically a new day.” He produces a book from the folds and hands it to Albus. "Happy End of Suspension."

 

It’s difficult to read in the low light, but Albus can just about make out the title as he turns the book around in his hands. It reads ‘Giovanni’s Room’. 

 

    “I usually can’t stand muggle literature,” says Scorpius, recoiling at the edge of disdain in his own voice, “but you really got me into this sort of stuff with Maureen.”

 

    “It’s ‘Maurice’, and it’s pronounced like ‘Morris',” Albus replies, repressing a chuckle. He holds the book up to Scorpius. “You’ve read this?”

 

    “Yeah, when you were busy with your suspension and Rose couldn’t hang out after classes because she was going to alchemy club.” Scorpius grins. “You proud of me?”

 

 Skimming over the foreword, Albus glances up for a second and smiles back. “Very.”

 

    “And I think you’ll like it, too, because it’s got higher stakes. The titular character, Giovanni, gets— I mean,” Scorpius clears his throat, “I won’t tell you. I know you like an adventure."

 

Albus sets the book down in his lap and pats it, nodding. “I… This is,” he says, chewing on his words, “very… Thoughtful, Scorpius. I must say this wasn’t quite what I was expecting from you.”

 

The grin on his lips begins to falter. “Oh,” says Scorpius with worry weighing on his brow, “oh, no, have I done it wrong? Is this not the right thing? It seemed right, it’s got all the same stuff, I just thought—“

 

    “No,” Albus interjects, “it’s just right, thank you. I was just restraining myself because, well, I have already read it — but,” he holds up a hand, “that doesn’t make it any less of a kind gesture, so, you know. Thanks.”

 

They go silent, perhaps both equally mesmerised by the fading lights as they twinkle and glow more and more faintly with every second that ticks by. Scorpius lights his wand again and blows another army of glittering spores onto the duvet. Suddenly, all the tension from the past day and indeed the past month seems to melt away for a moment. Scorpius frowns pensively.

 

    “Albus?”

 

He tilts his head to one side.

 

    “You know when…” Scorpius stops and begins to focus intently on the hem of his night robes. “Okay, so, before I read the book, I looked through Maurice — ‘Morris’, whatever, again, and I just… Do you remember, like, a while ago, like before the suspension and everything, when I was going to a remedial session or something and you were like… You know?’

 

    “Uh…” Albus shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

 

    “You quoted the book. The —“ he reaches into his robes again and produces the copy of ‘Maurice’ Albus have him, “— this one.”

 

The prior feeling of tranquility is replaced with a nasty mixture of shame and exasperation. Albus sighs, “I don’t know, Scorpius, I mean — I think I just got carried away. You know, it’s a lot for someone like me to process. I mean, I can’t remember what she even said to me now, but Georgia’s never going to truly recover from an Eternal Perm. Even if it only lasts half a year. Anyway,” he places a hand on Scorpius knee, this time leaving it there for only a second or so, “that’s… It’s not your fault I got upset. It’s on me. You’re happy now, with Rose, and that is all that matters to me.” He gives Scorpius a warm, genuine smile. "So, you know, as long as we can still be friends, I don’t mind that you don’t feel the same.”

 

Scorpius shakes his head, giving Albus the scare of the century for a moment before he replies, “okay, but… That’s just it, though. I don’t know how I feel.”

 

His mouth agape without an iota of a sound coming out, Albus tilts his head to the side again, this time with bemusement.

 

    “Really, I’d trade this for feeling things really deeply all the time. It’s honestly a shit deal, much worse than getting time off class once in a while.” Scorpius shakes his head again, looking down at the fading lights with a furrowed brow. “I know it’s hard for you, but I’d give anything to know what the hell I want. Just once. But here I am.” He looks up and gives a dampened smile. “It fucking blows, to say the least.”

 

Albus lets out a sharp breath. “Scorpius,” he says quickly, “I don’t think… You can’t…” He coughs. “Lord. Okay, um…” His stomach turns as a feeling of elation battles the dread of responsibility. Albus takes Scorpius hand in both his own and pats it slowly. “You... Have always liked Rose. Since the day you met her. That much is true. And I don’t believe you’ve stopped liking her since. Now, we’ve been getting up to some, uh, stuff, and that should by no means… You shouldn’t let that confuse things. You and Rose — that’s how the universe has planned it out. I’m just — forget about me, I’m an external factor. I’m only here to complicate things. Think of me like… Like an obstacle, yeah?” He presses a hand to his own chest, meaning only to indicate to himself but now registering how furiously his blood is coursing through his body. Albus silently thanks the dimming lights for not exposing his own surely flushed features. “You and Rose are the main plot. I’m just a plot device.”

 

Scorpius scoffs. “You’re so unkind to yourself, Al.”

 

    “Then let me be kind to you,” says Albus, holding all the tension of a drawbridge in his shoulders. “Be with Rose.”

 

Apparently still not fully convinced, Scorpius shrugs dismissively and bats away the last fading magical embers. “Oh well,” he says with sombre resignation. “I’ll get back to you when I make up my mind.” With that, Scorpius slips out through the curtains, leaving the two books with Albus. 

 

Albus takes them and slips them under his pillow as he lies back down, his mind racing like a wildfire. Two voices are echoing about in his mind, one encouraging regret and one praising his decision. They bicker away ceaselessly as he tries to fall asleep again. As he finally finds a corner of his mind that is somewhat quiet, he begins to wonder if it would have been wiser to take his own side in the matter. To reaffirm his claim all that time ago now and implore Scorpius to leave Rose at once. 

 

Just as Scorpius said, Albus is definitely the more decisive of the pair, as he settles on the latter with certainty. He is Scorpius' friend above all else, and if Scorpius’ flourishing relationship with Rose means that Albus just has to suck it up for once and not get his own way, then that is a cross he will happily bear. For Scorpius’ sake.

 

He is at last slipping back into a gentle sleep when his bed creaks, startling him awake. A figure cast in shadow sits at the end of his bed, as if it had just flown in from the window. Albus props himself up on an elbow, grumbling quietly.

 

    “Ugh, what now, Scorpius?”

 

Suddenly, the shadowy figure approaches and joins him at the other end of the bed, now looming over him like a bat. Albus shuts his eyes, too tired to bother squinting in the darkness.

 

From the dark presence comes a gentle but brazen voice.

 

    “I’ve made up my mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, locking this fic away forever: FINALLY the evil has been defeated
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this dumb cute fluffy fic! it was acc kind of fun to write so? mayhaps i will do more scorbus but for now im happy to finally put this one to rest

**Author's Note:**

> LOOSELY based on this post https://canonicallyscorbus.tumblr.com/post/151542364025/scorbus-experimenting


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